


Like a Phoenix

by djmarinizela



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Based on a Fall Out Boy Song, Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/M, Inspired by BoJack Horseman, Inspired by Fleabag (TV), Modeling, Romantic Comedy, levihan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-23 01:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30047691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djmarinizela/pseuds/djmarinizela
Summary: It’s a dog-eat-dog in the world of fashion and modeling, and Hange Zoe loves the paparazzi, adores her career, as well as her penchant for talking.Meanwhile, Levi—well, he thinks she’s something else, and they’re both in for a treat.
Relationships: Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44





	Like a Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ItsShailaM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsShailaM/gifts).



> A collaboration between me and [ItsShailaM](https://twitter.com/ItsShailaM), which is also my gift to her. All our thanks to [Rimeko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rimeko/pseuds/Rimeko) for being an amazing beta reader!
> 
> This work is inspired by Fleabag and Bojack Horseman (you'll know why). The title comes from the song "The Phoenix" by The Fall Out Boy. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hange loves, loves, loves the paparazzi. She loves them so much she keeps flaunting her slender figure and prominent features whenever the opportunity arises. In between the  _ flash flash flash  _ of photography and the hair flips here and there, there’s the screeching of fans in addition to the hush murmurs of critics (“Hange Zoe es magnifico, magnifico!”), but she doesn’t really mind all the attention. She’s had enough practice of walking down the catwalk to strut down the path of onlookers with a flourish and shut them up. Because  _ snap snap _ , god mother nature buddha, who wouldn't? 

Especially not Hange.

She thinks she has everything the world has to offer her: a growing career, fancy suits and dresses, a decent apartment, and a pair of sexy legs. 

Suffice to say, Hange’s only a model by mistake. It only happened because somebody once came up to her randomly and asked for her signature, thinking she was a celebrity and not some college student juggling two jobs just to afford her education. 

Then it dawned on her that _ahhh, maybe_ she could trudge down the modeling path. 

The sign finally came along when a friend of hers attended a modeling casting once with Hange in tow. Hange never wanted to be dragged into this, but the casting director mistook her as an applicant; something about a witty remark from Hange (“Remember, Nana, never let them treat you anything less than Beyonce!”) had the director’s eyes set on her. Plus, she was so mesmerized by Hange’s natural looks that she ended up being the lead of the commercial on a whim. 

“Show us your walk,” the director that day asked Hange encouragingly as the lady adjusted her huge round glasses. “You’ve got potential.”

“I… I don’t know how? I’m not really a model — ”

“Just walk.” 

Needless to say, Hange nailed it effortlessly: one foot after another, back straight, shoulders up, and smile. Probably because she’s watched too many beauty pageant shows on TV. Or that she’s figured out herself how to make a stride that could catch attention. Her slow motion walk-and-twirl took everyone’s breath away and the next thing she knew, she was being handed the application form and receiving calling cards from managers. A week later, she had been invited for photoshoots and interviews, her face appearing on billboards and magazines within a month. 

Holy Moley, indeed. It’s like she hit the jackpot. From tabula rasas to pi ñ a coladas, instant cup noodles to 5-star dinners. Now Hange’s on her way to becoming one of the highest paid models. 

The interesting part of this is, she still has no idea how it really happened.

“We’re doing a new show!”

Nanaba shoves a flyer into Hange’s face the moment she enters the apartment. Hange loves her best friend from the very first moment they met; she thinks the syllabication of ‘Nanaba’ makes her name sound like a bold star.

“Primavera?” Hange puts down her glasses from her head as she reads the large title in bold. She’s eating lunch, which, in this case, is a bagel now hanging by her mouth. “The show’s name is ‘Primavera’? As in… springtime?” 

“Yes! It’s a symbol for reincarnation.” Nanaba dramatically parts the air in front of her, eyes glazed in fantasy. “Rejuvenation.  _ Rebirth _ . It’s like Venus coming out of the sea.”

Hange makes a sour face at the very thought. “That’s… lame.”

Nanaba hits her friend on the head, proud and supportive. “Go crazy, Hanj! We’ll be using black sapphires, silver crystals, emeralds, amethysts. Now picture them on some sexy lingerie.”

“Those are horrendous — ”

“Think about your favorite gemstone!”

Hange wriggles her nose and throws the paper dramatically into the sofa. It slides down into the carpet. “Nanaba, I’m not walking around in a ruby-crusted bra. Can you imagine how heavy that would be?”

Being a model comes with being a diva at times.

“You are going to be the phoenix!” Nanaba does her spirit fingers then clasps her hands. 

She arches an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure they go through a deliberation…"

Nanaba continues as if Hange didn’t say anything. “Oh, I can already imagine. It’s going to be phenomenal! Also, stop eating bagels — ” she yanks the bread out of Hange’s mouth. “You’re supposed to be eating healthy.”

“But — ”

“No buts!” Nanaba is already dialing numbers on her phone. She isn’t a stage-best-friend for no good reason. “I’m calling Nifa to do your hair and makeup for the rehearsal. Mike will arrange for transpo. We're picking you up after class. And don’t be late! This stint should be enough to pay for your classes for the sem.”

Hange rolls her eyes and relents; her blonde friend has a point. This is how Nanaba wins the argument, if they can even call it that.

* * *

The thing no one really knows about Hange is that she talks a lot. To herself. Alone. As if she’s some deranged person who’s one step away from entering the asylum. She tried to be normal once and it was the worst two minutes of her life. Hange loves imagining there’s a camera following her all the time and she gets to break the fourth wall whenever she wants. It’s like her little mind palace, all her thoughts placed inside a vacuum where there’s no one else but herself. It’s her self-made fantasy, probably a delusion brought about by her modeling career. 

“I just don’t understand why modeling has to be so complicated,” she complains to herself, but she’s actually talking to us. Nifa has left her alone in the backroom after she’s done styling Hange’s hair. “Why can’t we just have fun and take selfies and eat anything we want? There's so much more to being a model than just being subjected to people's gaze all the time.”

"Miss Hange! Miss Hange!"

She turns around to follow the voice. "Moblit? What are you doing here?" and then she narrates to her invisible audience, "I don't even know how he finds me most of the time."

"Can I have your autograph once again?" Moblit's eyes are gleaming. 

"But you had all your belongings signed on my last show." 

"What can I say? I'm such a huge fan!" He takes out a black Sharpie and hands it to Hange. "I'd get your autograph on my coffin if I could!"

A short laugh escapes her. "Oh, Moblit, you're so funny at times." She loves her fans; she really does. They make her not want to strangle herself from all the stress her modeling career has brought upon her; instead, they make Hange want to bury herself alive. Hange then uncaps the pen and waits. "So, where do I sign?"

"Right on my shirt."

She faces the non-existent camera, eyebrows furrowed. "He’s kidding, right?" But Moblit's grin doesn't falter and that's how Hange knows he's serious. She wrinkles her nose in hesitation. "Oh, okay, well, here it goes."

Hange signs right on the center, the black ink glistening on the plain white fabric, and Moblit is ecstatic like a cinnamon roll on a cloudy day.

"Can you do one on my forehead too?" he asks in all seriousness, and Hange stares at him like he just sprouted another head.

"Ha?"

"All right, that's enough! Off you go, mister." Nifa musters up all her strength to shove Hange's biggest fan outside the door. The door locks shut and Nifa sighs in dismay, "You gotta do some crowd control next time, Hanj."

Fittings take up most of her time apart from the actual rehearsals, and they rarely do anything good for her, except, well, stress her out even more. Nifa comes back with a pair of 5-inch stilettos, and even though Hange has enough height to stand out whenever she’s walking, she still has to be subjected to these…  _ ah, yes _ , the evil invention of mankind designed to torment women for all eternity.

Nifa helps her into a long silk satin robe then after she leaves it undone on front, revealing enough skin left uncovered by Hange's camisole. "You're gonna do great," Nifa tells her friend. "I can feel it."

And then the music starts.

The stereos are pumping loudly and everyone backstage squeals in delight, the beats per minute fast enough to make their hearts go wild. It’s Hange’s favorite part, all the adrenaline rushing through her mind, all eyes on her the moment she starts walking.

"I can do this," Hange reminds herself, her hands fanning her face. "You've got guts, Hanj. You're strong. You're independent. Your face is aloe-vera smooth. You can wing this." 

She parts the curtain on the side and takes a glimpse of the other models already prancing on the runway, their faces all powdered and glammed up. They're ethereal and the world is their oyster. It’s now or never. She takes a deep breath just as the director calls out to her: “Hange, you’re up next.”

It’s her cue and the lights dawn upon her. She enters the catwalk and does her signature pose centerstage: left hand on waist, right leg straight to the side, hip jutted out before she begins her parade. The music is an upbeat tune and Hange is trying to condition herself to the loud and booming rhythm. She does a slow twirl, chin up, and heads straight for the end of the runway, the tails of her long silk satin robe flapping right behind her.

There isn’t really an audience, save for the people who get to have special privileges for helping out in the show. She goes in for the walk, takes a minute to scan the stage and sees familiar faces: Nanaba’s and Mike’s and Nifa’s and then —

Someone is watching her from the seats. 

He’s frowning, almost bored, as if completely unamused by all the extravaganza in front of him. And then his expression changes when she pauses in the middle of the runway for another pose. The guy sits forward and they catch each other's stare.

Hange doesn’t really mind it at first, but she notices that he’s not taking his eyes off her, like he’s never seen something incredulous, someone so mesmerizing, ever so breathtaking in his life. And Hange thinks of him the same: gorgeous, alluring, sexy son-of-a-gun. 

This man's a steal and Hange knows it very much.

"Now that's what I call 'hot stuff,'" she breaks her fourth wall as she struts down towards the end of the catwalk, right where this person is. "And not that I'm a pervert or anything, but he's definitely a 10/10 because my senses are tingling like they've never been before — "

But heels are a woman’s weakness, and so are hot men. 

Hange gets distracted and trips. The sound of her toppling down the platform echoes loud enough throughout the hall.

“Medic! Somebody get some ice!” Nanaba rushes to Hange’s side in alarm, trying to nurse her friend's bleeding lip. 

The next thing she knows is that she's on the floor, facedown right next to the stage.

Mike is already on the run for the first-aid kit while Nifa’s panicking about the ruined hair and makeup. The other models have stopped their walk as well, their faces confused and worried. It's a shit-show. The throbbing in Hange's forehead pulses through her veins and that’s how she knows she hit herself against one of the seats. It sends the director reeling in frustration and Hange just wants to die in embarrassment. Too many hands trying to grab her face and inspect the damage make her dizzy all the more. 

Finally, the stranger from the seats has approached the commotion and he carefully studies her, still from a distance, his eyes daunting and curious, maybe even concerned. He’s small, but his presence is intimidating, and Hange’s vision is fading.

Nifa nudges Hange who’s in Nanaba’s arms. “Hanj! Hanj! Say something.” 

"I think... I'm seeing an angel," Hange murmurs, not knowing if she’s talking to her friends or to herself.

"Ohmygod, don't die on us, Hanj." Nanaba is now frantic and Nifa is wailing, while Mike is asking if he should call for an ambulance.

It’s a whirlwind and they're all in a mess and the last thing that Hange remembers before passing out is the stranger saying, ‘Tch, so much for being a model.’

* * *

Nobody wants to see a fashion icon with a bruised forehead and a swollen lip strutting around in a bikini, no matter how sexy the lingerie looks like. 

It’s the closest thing to her ultimate demise, and Hange wants to forget all about it, because let’s face it, falling down a catwalk is a hilarious and foolish way to die. And certainly, Hange does not want to see  _ death by stupidity _ engraved on her epitaph.

Nanaba and Mike have invited her to have dinner with them at their place one night, with Hange’s entire right foot bandaged from the injury.  _ Luckily, it’s only a sprain _ , says Nanaba ("Luckily? Really, Nana?"). It should heal just in time for the show. Hange's still limping, though, popping painkillers in her mouth every four hours or so.

Now  _ luckily _ , there was no paparazzi during the rehearsal. The mishap grants Hange her wish to have enough time for herself. 

Which also grants her enough time to find more about this so-called stranger danger. 

"I know I've said I don't usually gawk at men," Hange starts speaking to herself once again, "But this guy, mmmm, I think I'll break my own rules just for him. He’s just oozing with sex appeal. There are some men that you just have to put on a pedestal when they're not looking, you know?"

She bugs her friend while she’s at their place, twiddling their cushions on the sofa with her fingers. “Nanaba, do you remember that guy from the rehearsal?”

“Which guy?” Nanaba calls out from the bathroom.

“Well, there was only one guy I didn’t recognize.”

“You mean Levi?” Mike’s head pops out from the kitchen. “I know him from college. You fancy him, Hanj?”

“I do not — ” and then she breaks the fourth wall to speak to us, "Yes, I do."

"But he's too short for you!" Nanaba retorts, still in the bathroom. 

"Height doesn't matter to me," and then Hange adds to herself, " _ Size  _ does. And there's no correlation between those, last I checked."

“Even so, you’re in for a big treat,” Mike says and Nanaba acknowledges that, both of them unaware of Hange's voiceovers. “That guy’s loaded.”

Mike then winks at her but doesn't elaborate any further. Hange bites her lip to hide her smirk and wonders how big of a treat she’s in.

* * *

The rehearsals push through despite Hange being on the sidelines in the meantime. But she’s restless, all the energy brimming inside her untouched. Even though she still needs to attend to understand the cues and the blockings, the choreographer yapping at her once in a while to keep those in mind, she takes the time to catch up with schoolwork and review her lecture notes.

"It's such a miracle I can still keep up with my classes," she talks to us once again as she tucks her textbook in her arms. "Sometimes I don't know how I manage it, really."

When she enters the backstage, Hange wasn't expecting mister-stranger-danger to be there. Said person is holding a broom and dusting the corners of where the clothes racks are because there’s too much mess everywhere. And Hange would have mistaken him for a janitor, if not for the expensive suit he's wearing. 

He turns around once Hange walks in.

“Oh no, I'm sorry, I thought you were inspecting this place,” she trudges in like a terrified fawn, as if the backstage is  _ his  _ turf, not hers.

"Don’t mind me.” Levi shrugs his shoulder. "This place looks like it's never seen a broom before."

"Well, we just don't have the time to clean up after ourselves — "

"But you have the time to make a mess out of yourself?" Levi cocks an eyebrow at Hange's ankle, the bandage visible from the corner of his eye. "How's the injury?"

"Hey, I was distracted, but thanks for asking." Hange then smoothens out her wild hair with a hand. 

Of all days for her not to wear any makeup, this guy shows up completely unannounced. She's dressed in a plain shirt and jeans, her reading glasses on the top of her head, hair tied up in a messy ponytail that resembles nothing more than a rat's nest. She calls this hairstyle of hers, _ I Tried.  _ Now Hange just wants to dig up a hole and hide there forever.

The stranger puts back the broom in the closet and takes out a sanitizer from his pocket. Hange is just in awe, thinks that godliness is indeed next to this cleanliness. This man is Adonis personified.

“You a student?" He gestures towards the textbook in her arms and it’s more of a curiosity and less of a judgment, Hange believes. 

"Mmhmm."

"What are you in school for?” He picks up his paper cup of hot tea that's been sitting on the counter.

“Take a guess.”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Hmm, okay then.” Hange puts up the book so the guy can see the title on the cover. “Astronomical Science,” she states it, loud and proud. “I'm in my last year of college. Had to extend for a few extra years but now I’m almost done.” 

He's amused. “No shit. Never thought a model could be that smart."

_ Was that a compliment or an insult? _ Guess she'll never know. 

It's her turn to ask questions. “Why are you here?”

“My uncle is the owner of Ackerman Diamonds," he says it like it's nothing, almost a humble statement. "The old geezer can't be bothered to attend the shows he sponsors.”

Hange is fascinated by this discovery, maybe even too amused the way her jaw drops and the man in front of him is just staring right at her in confusion. So she takes this chance to introduce herself. "I'm Hange, by the way. Hange Zoe."

"You think I don't know?” He frowns. “Levi." 

They shake hands out of formality but from the way he irks, Hange can tell he's really not too keen on touching weirdos like her.

The silence is awkward, so she attempts to break it by asking another question. "So what do you do... when you're not, you know, acting out… your high-end life?"

He takes a while to sip his tea.

"I clean."

* * *

It’s enough of a start to keep the conversation going between the two of them. 

The more Hange learns about Levi —part-time errand boy for his uncle, full-time hothead— the more Hange gets intrigued by him. Hange now believes that someone like Levi Ackerman didn’t come out as a child; he just materialized into existence. That, or he just sprung right out of his mother’s brain. 

Because that grumpy old man who has the body of Chris Evans, the height of Rob Schneider, and the fashion sense of The Beatles really takes Hange’s breath away; he couldn’t have been anything less than that. 

A week goes by and Levi is there by the seats while Hange attends her rehearsals. Miraculously, she’s ready to strut the runway once again. Her foot has already healed, thanks to Nifa who did a good job covering up the bruise with some high-end makeup, much to everyone’s surprise ("It's a full-coverage matte concealer, dimwits!"). In between breaks, Hange talks nonstop to him about anything and everything under the sun, and for some miraculous reason, Levi does listen. 

"I just pretend that there's a treat waiting for me after every show," she tells Levi when he asked how she manages to exude a lot of energy all the time. “So if you can’t find me in a crowd, just say ‘chocolate,’ and I’ll turn myself around.”

"What are you, like five?"

A loud snort escapes her, and it’s been so long since she’s laughed this much. Perhaps there’s just something different about the way she feels comfortable talking to him during breaks, despite his crass and sarcastic attitude. 

Hange also learns that Levi was only there at her first rehearsal (and therefore, her mishap) to make sure that the diamonds arrived safely — "And that it gets to be worn by someone worth all those carats," he scoffs. 

When the creative director gathers the models together and announces who's wearing the rare diamonds for the show, nobody's really surprised that it's Hange, despite the freak accident last time. Naming her as the grand finale would call more attention to the gala night, now that her rising popularity has gone straight to the media. There’s some clapping from the other models plus some pats on the back, and Hange’s ecstatic that the girls are supportive of her now more than ever.

“It’s a rare honor,” she starts upon heading back to the changing room, and then blabbers more facts that she’s been told. “That one-of-a-kind bra weighs about 400 carats, has about 7,500 gemstones, and is valued at roughly 5.7 million — ”

“Hange, congratulations again!” another model named Marie waves at her before heading out of the building. Marie continues, “The executive director said that the luxury piece was worth more than this entire hall combined.”

She waves back before continuing her monologue. “Imagine if that thing sank together with the Titanic — ”

“Then I would throw you overboard to retrieve it.” 

Levi is leaning by the door, his arms crossed, and his frown more evident. 

Hange is unperturbed by his presence. “Oh, you’re here. You’re so small it makes you so hard to notice,” she says, her tone playful and teasing. “Still cleaning?”

“I’m done for the day.”

“I see.

There is some kind of tension in the air between them, Hange can tell, the way Levi is deliberately not looking into her eyes.

“If you’re free tomorrow, would you… like to hang out?” He shifts his weight onto his other foot, hands in pockets. His posture really makes him look like a model, had it not been for his height, or lack thereof. 

Hange is amused. “Are you inviting me to have sex with you?”

It's a joke with the way she wiggles her eyebrows, but Levi looks offended.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, not falling for her antics. “We’re not having sex. I’m just asking you out on a date.”

Needless to say, she says yes right on the spot, almost too cheerfully now that she could see that small tug of a smile on Levi’s lips. Once he's left the hall, Hange faces her make-believe camera again with a smirk. “Would you look at that? I think this is where it all starts.”

* * *

Contrary to what she thinks,  _ this _ is not where it all starts. At least not the simping nor the fanaticism, no. That has already been established ever since Hange first met him.

Levi picks her up from her place, pleads to her not to spend too much time prepping up, because, let's face it, Hange doesn't really need a lot to make herself look effortlessly gorgeous. Her concept of a date is fine dining and wine nights, all because she’s had too many men in the past asking her out and trying to win her over, but Hange never really fell for any of them (“Maybe it’s because… they don’t wear suits while cleaning backstage?” she ponders). 

_ Ahhh _ bless her. She’s pretty much a carefree soul. 

The two of them find themselves walking along the city streets on a late afternoon which is technically a date, but Hange teases him again, “It’s a field trip.”

"Field trips are for children," he scowls at Hange. Levi has treated her to some chocolate sundae for dessert, slightly amused at how she can keep her figure despite all that sugar intake ("Don't worry, I've counted the calories!" Hange said). "There's no point for two adults to wander around aimlessly in a city."

"No, there is." She licks the back of her plastic spoon absentmindedly. "Field trips are for the young and curious."

"You're not  _ that  _ young."

"Neither are you," and then she whispers to her invisible audience, "He's pushing past 30."

Levi lets her win that.

Somebody comes up to Hange in public and asks for a selfie with her. Levi steps politely into the side to make room, watches her carefully as three more fans flock together around her, asking for an autograph. She's becoming too much of a celebrity, the way people can recognize her face from afar and gawk at her while she's just trying to enjoy her time. 

"Have you always fancied going out with a model?" Hange asks him once the crowd has dissipated and they're left to themselves once more. The fans have thanked her for taking the time to take photos with them, for signing whatever belongings they handed out to Hange. Now the silence is somewhat comforting.

Levi gives her a lazy look. "I don't collect women, if that's what you're asking."

His answer makes her like him even better. Levi definitely seems to be the type of guy who would date one woman after another, the type who would consider them as trophies, a scoring board. But based on their interactions so far, she can tell that he's something else, and that he’s telling the truth.

Hange nudges him in the rib, “Figured there’s something about you that — ow! _ ”  _

She almost trips on the sidewalk, if not for Levi catching her on time.

“And you call yourself a model?” he scoffs, grasping her arm tighter to pull her up. “Why do you always fall in the worst places?”

"I don't. I just fall for gorgeous men." Hange grins at him, and then winces in pain. "Ow, that hurt."

Levi raises an eyebrow and drops whatever comeback he has to say. Hange bends down to look at the back of her pumps and sees the heel hanging loosely from the sole. When she takes both of her shoes off, they both can see the skin on the back of her feet rubbed raw from so much chafing. Apparently, Hange has been bearing the discomfort all this time. 

"How did I manage to get you,” he sighs.

Hange frowns. "Why does that sound more like a complaint than a compliment?"

He doesn’t answer that. Instead, he focuses on the scarring on Hange’s feet. Levi purses his lips in concern. “There’s no way you can walk like this.” He gently assists her on a nearby bench, one arm around Hange’s waist, until she finally sits down. Levi then shrugs off his blazer and puts it around her shoulders before Hange can even protest. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

And then he’s gone.

A minute passes by. Then another. And another. Hange’s sitting barefoot in public, the concrete scraping the very soles of her feet, her broken shoes now on her lap. Across her view is the harbor, but it’s too dark to see anything at all. But the wind tells her that it’s getting colder so she wraps Levi’s jacket tighter around herself, inhaling his scent. He does smell good, remnants of peppermint and fresh linens and chamomile tea. She’s barely visible behind the tree, away from the sight of passersby who might even recognize her. Hange swings her leg in the air once, twice, keeps herself busy while waiting. She looks at the time on her dying phone and it’s been fifteen minutes since he’s left. 

“Ah, I’ve been so used to all the noise around me that it’s so hard to appreciate the peace and quiet nowadays,” she talks to herself. “But I have to admit, this is kinda nice. Levi’s really a different person; I mean he’s short, yeah, but I guess that's what they meant when they say opposites attract?” 

To serve as a distraction, she hums a song, sways slowly to the rhythm like a kid. It’s a music she’s always loved, the beats slower than the ones she’s heard from the runway. She keeps humming some more, and then she stops.

“What if he ditched out on me?” she blurts out loud in a panic. “Did I do something wrong? Am I a bad date? Am I supposed to walk home barefoot?”

Hange looks around and doesn’t see anyone coming by. The street is silent and the lights are dim from where she’s sitting; it’s the perfect place to get mugged or robbed. The unsettling part is that her date for tonight might have left her alone where no one could find her dead body, if it ever came down to that. 

“Oh no. Oh no, I can’t believe this.” She grasps a fistful of her hair, ready to tear her head apart. “What now? What do I do? Think, Hanj, think. And I’m supposed to prove that I’m more than what I seem to be — ”

“What the hell.” 

Levi’s standing right behind her with a plastic bag from a convenience store. “I’m surprised people haven’t thought you’ve lost your mind from talking to yourself.”

“As far as I know, you’re the only one who can hear my internal monologues.” 

Levi doesn’t believe that. He crouches in front of Hange. Slowly, he rests her injured foot on his thigh and takes out the small pack of band-aids from the plastic bag. He then gently inches up the cuffs of her pants. Hange watches him as he removes the adhesives and carefully plasters the strip around her heel, his fingers long and slender. Hange has to stop herself from overheating.

“You models think the world revolves around you,” Levi comments, and Hange thinks it’s an insult but there’s no edge to his words. He works on her other foot when he continues, “Maybe you should learn to step outside your walls once in a while.”

“Maybe you can teach me.”

“Maybe I can.” He looks up into Hange’s eyes, his expression unreadable. 

Hange bites her lip; this man really does something to her. "I'll be your student, then."

“We'll see…” He’s ensuring that her injuries are all patched up, his hands running through Hange’s toes. “There, all finished.” Levi pats her foot as he helps her put on a pair of flip flops as well. Hange’s about to complain, not wanting to let go of her pumps despite them being broken, but Levi is more insistent: “I think we’ve had enough falls for tonight.” 

He finally takes her pumps and places them in the bag. Levi then folds his arms and leans on the railing. Hange joins him on that. There's the sound of the waves crashing and the occasional honk of the boats here and there. The dim light from the nearest lamppost is enough to illuminate her reflection on the water: apart from their height difference being so much smaller than before, Hange also notices that she looks good in his blazer. 

"So, what do you do indeed?" she asks the question once again. "You're not really into the glam and glitter, from what I can see, so you must be into something else."

He doesn’t take his eyes off the waters. "Take a guess."

"Mmm, how should I know?"

Levi says it's better if he shows her instead, and Hange obliges.

* * *

A visit to an orphanage wasn't what she had on her mind for their next date. But Hange knows it means a lot to Levi, so she accepts, if it means even seeing a tiny glimpse of his world. Besides, it’s a change from all the dates she’s had so far. 

After a lot of pestering, Hange eventually finds out that Levi likes children deep down, likes volunteering for this home of little wanderers whenever he can. He funds it with the money his uncle has given him, helps the orphanage get more donors through his connections. This is a side of him that she has never expected. 

"Imagine if all the rich people in the world gave enough attention to homeless children," Levi prompts her while they head to the small shelter. 

"As much as they do to fashion shows and models?"

"Precisely." A deep booming voice replies from behind them.

Erwin is the director of the orphanage and a good friend of Levi from college. He's been doing this since forever, his passion for taking care of children enough to inspire people. 

After Levi introduces him to Hange, Erwin's polite enough to explain to her how they run the institution, despite knowing that Hange's has a million other things to do aside from visiting orphans. Hange thinks that Erwin’s booming bass voice is so mesmerizing it could be used for audiobooks, but she listens intently to everything, from the founding of the orphanage to the milestones made by people who contributed to its success, including the two men in front of her. Hange’s mouth falls open, amazed by the story. 

Eventually, Erwin excuses himself to attend to other things. “I’ll let Levi show you around,” he says, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “This is the first time he’s ever brought a visitor with him.”

Levi then leads her to the common room and Hange doesn’t find anything surprising at first, until —

"Mister Levi! Mister Levi!" A young boy no more than six years old runs up to them and smirks. "Your girlfriend's  _ gorgeous _ ."

Levi's about to retort when another kid holding up a stuffed toy of a horse comes up right next to them. "Connie, you're just jealous!"

"I don't see you snagging a girl, Jean." The kid named Connie blows a raspberry at his friend. 

To shut them both up, Levi gives the two boys his black coat for then to hang up on the rack. He tells them it's good manners that win people over. But his lecture is futile, because Jean and Connie end up wrestling each other on who gets to keep his coat. Now he has to separate the two brats from tearing each other apart. He's left with his plain white button-up that contrasts highly with his dark pants, and Hange cannot help but bite her lip when he rolls up his sleeves, forearms rippling.

More kids enter the room, chasing each other, their tiny shoes scattered all around like crazy. They look at Hange for a second, their faces curious, before continuing their game of tag. Their high-pitched squeals fill her ears. The children have no idea who she is, not even the slightest clue that she's one of the highest paid models in the industry.

"Sorry for the mess," Levi apologizes to her, as if  _ he _ made the mess, as if the kids were his full responsibility. "If they had any idea who you are, they probably would have tidied up a little bit."

"I don't mind," she breathes, incredulous. Somehow, Hange doesn't find anonymity deterring. "Never would have thought — "

"Hold on." Levi grabs the mop once he sees the puddle of milk that spilled from a little girl's paper cup. "Sasha, it's okay, we'll get you another one."

But tiny Sasha has already started bawling her eyes out, her small fists banging on the table. 

Before Levi can run for the milk carton in the mini-fridge, Hange beats him to it. "I got this, don't worry," she says, reaching out for the half-and-half on the corner.

"Thanks." The look on his face is incredulous. But the ruckus doesn't end there. "Eren, stop doing that," Levi calls out to a boy with green eyes who's pulling Hange by the waistband of her pants. He scans the room to look for another kid. "Mikasa, come over here and say hi."

In the corner of the room, the young girl named Mikasa removes a thumb from her mouth before shyly greeting Hange with a  _ hi _ . 

After Hange has handed the cup of milk to Sasha, she notices another child staring at her from the other end of the room. "And who's the little guy?"

"This..." Levi kneels with one knee to go eye-level with the small blond boy. "is Armin."

Armin is holding a storybook and hands it to Hange when she comes over to him, his bright blue eyes gleaming and full of light. He doesn't speak much, but Hange knows he wants her to read it for him. She plops down to the floor and Levi helps Armin into a bean bag so they can all sit together. 

As if on cue, the rest of the children gather around them when Hange starts the story, small arms tucked around their knees, eyes wide and curious. Hange’s flipping through the pages and showing the pictures for everyone to see before she begins reading.

The story is about an incomplete circle who's looking for its missing piece. It starts with a circle searching, searching, searching for the part that should complete it. Hange's very dramatic with the way she reads the story, her hands gesturing flamboyantly, keeping the kids on their toes. She reads the part where the circle keeps on trying to fit other pieces into itself, nothing ever matching until it finally gets tired of finding the piece to make it complete. The children all marvel at the photos as she points out every shape and figure to them, their “oohs” and “aahs” audible once in a while. 

And then the story reaches its resolution: Hange’s voice is low when the circle finally realizes that it doesn't need to find a piece to complete itself; all it has to do is keep going on with life, learning how to accept its own. The statement is so heavy that the children are left pondering with its meaning. When the story is finally finished, she turns to look at Levi. 

His expression is soft.

It’s already late in the afternoon when they call it a day, not bad for a second date at all. By the time they headed out for the door, the children were all whimpering and clinging to Hange, never wanting to let go. 

"Never would have thought you’d be good with kids," Hange says.

"Same with you."

She nudges Levi by the shoulder once they've left the orphanage. In her hand is a drawing of the missing pieces that the kids have drawn for her, little shapes in different sizes and colors filling the page. The children have obviously taken a liking to Hange, inviting her to come back and join them another day. 

"What can I say? I'm a quick learner," she continues, "I admit, it was hard for me to see you in a different light, but now it makes sense why the showbiz doesn't entice you."

"...Not every person only cares about themselves, you know."

She chuckles, now realizing that there’s more to Levi than what she thinks of him.

They're walking on the main street after a heavy meal, and there's another trail of eyes following them, cameras out and open. No questions asked and both for them are sure their photo together is going to be on social media in the next few hours. As much as they've tried to keep it discreet, mostly to avoid Hange's fans and critics, it's still a challenge whenever people could recognize her out in public.

However, Hange couldn't care any less. 

For some reason, she gets to be herself whenever he's around, and Levi sees her as Hange, not Hange the model, but just Hange, simply Hange, Hange being young and wild and carefree, Hange bright-eyed and curious about the world.

Plus, the way Levi carries himself in public, short as he is, is an entirely different aphrodisiac to her senses. He’s the storm to her sunshine; the holding ground to her tremors. Hange could melt there and then for him, and if looks could kill, she'll carry this secret fantasy of him to her grave.

Because, those gray eyes. 

His dark hair. Ooh, and that undercut. 

His toned arms and legs which tells her that he works out a lot. 

His prominent jawline that could cut diamonds.

His voice, low and smoky she could evaporate in it. 

"And don't forget his neck, his beautiful neck," Hange says to the fictitious camera as they're walking along the street. "I'd drop dead for that neck, oh yes."

"Why do you have a goddamn kink for my neck?" Levi whips his head in frustration, and she stops walking. 

The smile disappears in Hange's face. “You heard that?”

Levi clicks his tongue. “So damn weird.”

Hange puts on a straight face. “I’m not weird. I’m limited edition.” 

_ Better own it then _ , she tells herself, and the way Levi blows away a strand of hair from his eyes, she knows she has already won this round. 

* * *

The day of a fashion show is enough to tear anyone's head apart if they would venture into the backstage. The models are getting ready left and right, cameras panning everywhere for the televised program later on. There are a few raised voices here and there, the creative director starting a fuss on every single detail, from the small mistakes on the girls’ makeup to the large poster hanging on the backstage wall that says: “Break a leg, ladies — literally!” 

Levi comes inside Hange's waiting room once Nifa gives him permission while she’s still doing Hange’s hair. He then puts a floral arrangement on her makeup desk. Hange thinks it's a sweet gesture, until Levi says that the kids from the orphanage pushed him to do it. 

"They wouldn't stop yapping about it," he huffs, smoothing down the lapels of his coat.

Hange laughs, thinks it’s really cute to see him provoked by a bunch of six-year-olds. She’s still admiring the flower arrangement when they hear the annoying  _ flash flash flash _ of a camera backstage.

"Levi! Petra's here!" Mike shouts. Nifa shakes her head and throws a brush at him. 

It’s too late to take it back; there’s a girl coming up towards them, her doe-like eyes bright and happy, a camera dangling in front of her. They’re all craning their necks at the uninvited guest when Hange sees the irritated look on Levi’s face. 

Now she wants to know. “Petra? Who’s she?”

  
Mike sneers, “His girlfriend.”

“ _ Ex _ -girlfriend,” Levi corrects him. 

“You mean, your on-and-off girlfriend.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Last I checked, I’ve already called it quits.”

"Hi!” They all turn their heads to see Petra cheerfully waving a hand at them. “When you’re all done here, I’d like to take a picture of our star model for tonight. The people would  _ love, love, love _ to see Hange Zoe featured in my blog. They’d go crazy!" She’s about to turn around when she eyes Levi and gestures her thumb and pinky to her mouth. “Call me.” 

Hange catches the wink from Petra upon leaving. 

“Well, that was fetch,” Mike says. 

“I thought she’s already moved on to that Oluo guy,” Nanaba mutters as Nifa lets down the curls from Hange’s hair.

Apparently, Petra’s a fashion guru in the industry, Hange learns from her friends, always blogging about the latest shebang in the modeling world. Levi had been spotted going out with Petra before and the two had been an item for about a year or so, until they found out that Petra went on a vacation with an advertising director who’s more young and hip. The social media pages exploded with photos of them everywhere and even though people expected him to be upset, Levi has never been more thankful to be left out of the picture. Now that Hange’s thinking about it, Petra’s just like her; lost in the glamor and glitter of their careers. 

She tries to catch another glimpse of this Petra and cannot help but compare herself to her. "I wonder what she's like, or what he saw in her," Hange talks to herself. 

"We're no longer together, if you're thinking about that. We had nothing much in common," Levi answers the question lingering in her mind. "It's not worth stressing over.”

"I'm not, I swear — "

He lightly rubs the top of her hair. "Trust me, you'll do fine. Just dedicate your heart." 

Levi then exits her room to head to his seat among the audience. She doesn’t know what he meant by his statement. 

The show finally starts within a few minutes or so. The music is blaring, spotlights painting colorful circles on anything they touch. Hange has opened segments before, but this one’s different from the rest, now that she’s the grand finale of the show, all eyes waiting for her to get on the stage. Once the rest of her friends have left her waiting room, she then puts on the fancy two-piece laced with diamonds and crystals dangling on her thighs and torso. The entire thing feels cold on her skin. 

“Alright, listen up,” the creative director says, gathering all the models backstage. “I want each one of you to be confident, sexy, and fierce, so you better slay that runway!”

It’s like glitter all over the room, the way they all bounce up and down while clapping, their hair pinned in elaborate styles that match the theme of their outfits. From where they are, Hange can see the models already strutting down the runway, the live band playing as they walk by, the rest of them bobbing their heads to the rhythm of the beat.

“ _ You know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start _ ,” the music goes, “ _ So dance alone to the beat of your heart… _ ” 

Behind the curtains, Nanaba is now adjusting the gigantic pair of wings behind Hange’s back for the nth time because Hange keeps on fidgeting right before her show. 

Even Hange is apologetic. “Sorry, Nana, this is just too heavy.” 

Although, somehow, Hange wonders if it’s really just the weight of the entire outfit that’s pulling her down deep inside.

Her friend assures her. “Don’t worry, Hanj, you look amazing.”

There’s no need for Nanaba to tell her that. Hange finally removes her glasses and replaces them with contacts. She then twirls around to see herself in front of the full-body mirror backstage and the words just dried up in her mouth. The Ackerman Diamonds really threw her entire gala out of the park with all the jewelry stitched in the grand design.

"Remember, Hange, if you fall again, laugh it off and carry on!” Nifa exclaims, indignant, as if half-expecting that Hange might indeed... fall again. 

Her two friends then assist her to where she’s supposed to be set up. They place her inside a gigantic shadowed frame box and only her silhouette can be seen at first, her shadows flickering in the colorful background as the lights flash around her. She can hear the motors whirring as they hoist her up into the stage, invisible.

Inside it, Hange can feel her nerves jumping out of her skin. “This is it, I guess,” she tells herself, the pads of her fingers resting against the smooth surface of the box. “I know I’m supposed to be hyped up, but why do I feel like —”

The crowd finally roars when the antique-looking frame opens. Hange then turns around and lets her feathered tail fall to the floor. More applause rings through her ears and then she starts walking fiercely, following the upbeat tune of the music pumping in the speakers. There’s so much raw energy in her radiating from within, and the entire audience can sense it, along with the music that fits her walk. 

“ _ I'm gonna change you like a remix, _ ” the lead singer enters the chorus, “ _ Then I'll raise you like a phoenix… _ ”

The booming of the bass continues, and the cheers erupt even louder. Even Nanaba and Nifa backstage are shimmying to the music. Hange flexes her outfit, all the jewelry glinting under the light, colors bouncing off in different directions. Her name will be on the newspaper headlines by tomorrow. She’s an enigma to anyone who can see her right now. Because  _ yes, yes, yes,  _ Hange Zoe’s a natural, and that's why she has become a superstar of this decade. 

Hange keeps smiling as she recognizes some of the people in the audience. The cameras continue clicking in every step of her way. Hange stops, strikes her pose, then flashes a smolder to the camera, and turns. She does the same motion once she reaches the other end of the stage: pose, smolder, turn. From the corner of her eye, she can see Levi sitting in the front row, his face bearing no expression as always. The split-second stare between the two of them is enough.

* * *

“Hanj, you slayed them all!” Nanaba runs in for a hug after the show and hands her best friend the bouquet of flowers that she and Mike have picked out for her. The entire segment was a success. “Come on, we have to get you ready for the party.” 

A lot of confetti and glitter have scattered on her hair and clothes, and Hange’s pretty sure she’s drowning in sweat. There's an after-party and it will be a blast, or so they say, all food and drinks overflowing, the night lights of the city visible from the 34th floor of the building where they are. Nanaba helps her out of her attire in a deluxe suite, has Hange changed into a formal chiffon-lace jumpsuit that radiates her elegance and style.

Over the food and drinks, people talk to Hange nonstop, giving her their sincerest congratulations about being the star of the show, asking for her autograph, and if possible, a photo with her. She talks to other models for a bit, joins them for a few more photos and drinks, too. She’s still thanking them for the gracious compliments when an older man in his 50s comes up to her and introduces himself as the executive director of a famous clothing company. 

“We’ve been very enamored with your rising popularity, Miss Hange,” the man tells her. His dark shaggy hair completely throws off the velvet suit that he’s wearing. 

But Hange is polite, listens anyway to his rambling about how awestruck he was with her onstage.

She takes a sip from her glass of champagne. “So what do you have for me, Director Shadis?”

The man named Shadis finally gets straight to the point. “I’d like to invite you to do the opening segment for the auction of the Ackerman Diamonds that you’ve worn this evening. The event is called ‘The Untouchables.’” Shadis rubs the stubble under his chin and continues as he takes out something from his pocket, “It will be in Paris and everything will be paid for. Lots of opportunities for you to meet more people in the industry.”

Hange takes the calling card that Shadis has offered to her, her brown eyes wide in disbelief. “No way, you have got to be kidding.”

The director continues, “You’ll also receive a cut from the amount that we auction the jewelries for. All you have to do is think big, think international, Miss Hange,” Shadis says, desperately trying hard to win her over. “How about it? Would you model for us?”

It’s all the world has to offer her. Paris is every model’s dream who wants to go big, anyway. She’s about to say yes when her response is drowned by the announcement of the fireworks display due in a minute. 

Everyone is ultimately pumped from the dancing and drinking, their spirits high in anticipation. The chanting is so loud that she can barely hear Shadis anyway who is now engrossed with the countdown as well, having forgotten his ongoing conversation with Hange. She then takes this chance to excuse herself and slip out of the gathered crowd.

While nobody is looking, Hange heads straight for the elevator. She takes off to the roof of the building, and sits on top of the ledge, overlooking the city. The fireworks have already started, all the colors burning bright in the evening sky. 

"Finally, this is so much more bearable," she breathes to herself, the flaps of her jumpsuit swaying in the wind. "Funny how I've been so used to the noise that now it's starting to get to me ever since —”

"What are you doing here?"

She wheels around and sees Levi by the door to the rooftop. "Hiding. You?"

Levi cups a hand to his ear while he's walking towards her and Hange shouts her answer over the fireworks. 

"I could say the same," he says once he's close enough to be heard. "It’s a mess back there."

"Always is wherever I go."

He joins her on the ledge, their legs dangling through the holes in the wired mesh fence. For some reason, Hange really feels comfortable being around him, like they've developed into some kind of trust with each other, the way Levi provokes her with his nuggets of wisdom here and there. 

It's really not fair, she thinks; her words of wisdom only come out when she's drunk. Perhaps she can call this an even ground for now.

Hange tells him about the invitation from the director about the upcoming show in Paris, how they want her to open the segment for them. 

"The Untouchables?” Levi wrinkles his nose. “What a shitty name. Kenny should have vetoed that." 

The fantastic thing is that Levi listens as always, willing to let her ramble all the way, but sometimes Hange is more keen to hear his thoughts about the matter.

"Funny how all our facades in this industry is nothing more than just a cover," he then segues into this, hoping Hange follows his train of thought.

She thinks it’s his way of saying how he’s not really excited for things to come. "But isn't this how it should be?" 

Levi shakes his head, hand dangerously close to Hange’s. "Revealing who you are behind all the glamour... shit, I think that's the most challenging part."

“Me behind the glamour? Hmmm...” Hange looks up to the skies, thinking. “Well, you’ve got a former broke-ass student who keeps talking to herself at all times.”

“There has to be more to you than that.”

“Mmm, how about a crazy hot person?”

A snort that escapes him. “I don’t know if I want to yell at you or kiss you.”

She blinks once, twice, almost thinking that she has just imagined it. But she’s heard it right, now that Levi’s eyes are smoldering against the light emitted by the fireworks. Hange then puts her hand on top of his. "So why choose?"

Levi tilts his neck to catch a glimpse of her face. "Fuck, I guess you’re right."

In a flash, she instantly grabs the lapel of his coat and kisses him hard, Levi drawing her towards him by grabbing the back of her hair. Hange has been desiring this since the beginning, but now she wants something more — perhaps something rougher, messier even. She steps away from the ledge and Levi follows, pulling her towards him as he settles himself on a crate nested on a corner. 

Hange then clambers on top of Levi’s lap, straddles him while the fireworks are still bursting right behind her. It’s a good view for him, she thinks. Hange runs her hands through his undercut and likes the feel of it. She’s about to shrug off Levi's coat, ready to get down and dirty right there and then, when Levi stops, slowly prying her hands off his suit. 

“Why? What’s wrong? Don’t you want — ”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, it's just… not here.”

"Oh. Okay," she says, a little bit disappointed. 

But Levi squeezes her hand. "It’s too dirty here. Would you like to go to my place tonight?"

* * *

His apartment is as clean and orderly as he is, wooden floors all religiously swept and no dust surfacing the furniture. It tells a lot about him too, the way everything is neat and organized. Levi hasn’t let go of Hange, his fingers still intertwined with hers, and Hange wishes he’d never have to, but he does so the moment they’ve entered his bedroom. 

Hange can still taste the alcohol on her mouth, but she doesn't think it's a bad idea to do this with Levi. In fact, she'll give it all tonight.

He backs her up against the wall and kisses her while running a hand along her thigh.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he murmurs, tucking away a strand of hair behind Hange's face. "You caught my eye the moment I first saw you on the catwalk."

"Funny, you were the reason I got distracted that day."

They kiss again, clothes now too tight, and it's another spark in both of them, the desire only getting stronger and stronger. Hange wraps her arms around him, eyes closed and ultimately feeling the moment.

"Are you alright with  _ this _ ?" He pauses before completely sliding off her jumpsuit, her bare shoulders already peeking out of the collar. It’s the first time someone has ever asked for her consent, the others always assuming she’d just go with the flow.

Hange brushes her nose against his ear. "You'll have to teach me your ways."

Maybe she'll let him take the lead for now.

He lays her down on the mattress after she helps him remove his shirt, watches him unzip his pants and climb the bed. 

Tonight, Hange discovers two things: (a) that she really has a thing for men in suits; and (b) they look better — so much better — without one. 

She has to keep it to herself when she runs a hand down his strong chest, feels his six-pack with the back of her fingers as if he's something fragile and too delicate to touch. Like his body is a wonderland she would like to dwell in for a while. Hange drills this into her mind as he's peppering her neck with kisses, thumb tracing her jaw, and Hange's breaking the fourth wall once again.

"Oh, we are doing this, we are  _ so _ doing this," she tells her imaginary audience, breathless. Her nails are digging crescents deeper into his muscular back as Levi bites into her shoulder. "I can't believe it."

"...Can't believe what?" 

Levi cranes his neck to look at her. 

Hange is flabbergasted. "Hm? Did you just hear me talk?" 

He nods and she feels hot in her cheeks. Fortunately, Levi doesn't think it's a big deal and proceeds from undressing her completely, tugging down the rest of her garments with his fingers. He starts kissing her long and dainty limbs, going up with each kiss, his strong hands massaging her inner thighs.

"Oh," she says, feeling the flick of his tongue in between her legs. " _ Oh _ ."

As she grabs hold of his clean and crisp bedsheets, Hange really wonders why sex feels like heaven when the lust makes it so sinful. It’s so hard to put two and two together. In addition to his tongue, Levi's fingers are fast and deft and Hange is just too thirsty for this man, all her inhibitions coming undone for this moment. She finally sits up and climbs on top of him, pushing him back down. He puts his thumb in her mouth and Hange sucks it, her eyes delirious and hazy from all the pleasure. She rubs herself against him for a while and then after putting on a condom on his length, Hange finally guides him inside her, allowing herself to move the way she wants to. 

"Shit," Levi breathes, because Hange looks immaculate riding him like this. "Shit."

“Stop swearing.”

“I can’t help it. Fuck.”

Hange laughs and it echoes throughout his room. She’s never imagined having sex with this gorgeous son-of-a-gun to be so enjoyable. Sure, she’s had experience with other people before, but never in life would she have thought to be at ease just brushing her hands and legs sliding against his, her sweat mingling with his on their skins. Levi runs his hand along the back of her nape and tugs her hair down, leaving her neck bare. He sits up for a bit to kiss that part of her and Hange has never felt so wanted before. 

She yells out her orgasm first and Levi follows, thoroughly content. They both collapse in complete exhaustion after reaching their peak, with Hange resting right on top of him.

“So much for being an ‘Untouchable,’ huh?” she teases him, his expression still serious. She lays her head on the hollow of his clavicle, her ankles going past his feet.

He presses his lips to her forehead. “You completely got me.”

It was then that Hange Zoe wondered what it would be like to be someone as amazing as Levi Ackerman himself.

**Author's Note:**

> And there goes the first act! Let us know what you think!


End file.
